


I Need You More

by Macklestuff



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anxiety, Canon Compliant, Denial, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Pillow Proposals, Smut, Their First Pseudo-Argument, Virgin Katsuki Yuuri, banquet, make-up sex, past depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 20:50:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10647819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macklestuff/pseuds/Macklestuff
Summary: Viktor suspects that he assumed wrong about the rings that they exchanged in Barcelona. Every time he thinks about having, perhaps incorrectly, told everyone over dinner that Yuuri and him were engaged, he feels his chest constrict--but promptly stops himself from following that line of thought any further. He allows himself to bask in ignorance and the benefit of doubt, and doesn't plan on bringing it up to Yuuri. Viktor will just take what is given.Denial does give him a massive headache, however.-Takes place right after the episode in which Yuuri (kind of) asks Viktor to marry him in front of a church in Barcelona. Except he didn't realize Viktor would take him seriously, and Viktor doesn't know if he can hold Yuuri accountable for what he does and says when he's feeling impulsive.Includes Yuuri trying to grapple with what he's forgotten about the banquet.





	I Need You More

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, hello! I wrote this while I should be worrying about my upcoming college graduation, so I guess writing angsty and fluffy smut is a great way of procrastinating.
> 
> In my head, Viktor was chronically depressed before he up and went to Hasetsu, so this makes light reference to that. Other than that, there are no major sadness triggers. I'll write a massively angsty fic later on though, so any feedback in preparation for that is more than welcome (and encouraged, so please leave a comment!). Enjoy!

There’s a pressure against his temples, pulsating at odd intervals. The door to their hotel room shutting behind them triggers another pulse, and Viktor takes his hand to his forehead, trying to stabilize his thoughts. Yuuri, quickly depositing the shopping bags by the door, wordlessly makes his way to the bathroom, and that door also shuts. He frowns at everything unsaid between them, and feels the way his brain throbs. So much for being engaged.

  
He kicks his shoes off and then allows himself to fall upon the first of the beds, his arms and legs spread out, and wonders when Yuuri will be back, if they’ll talk at all, if he’ll have to probe until the other gives—as usual. He sighs at the thought.

  
“Yuuri,” he calls, and waits.

  
After what seemed to be the longest minute Viktor had ever counted, he hears the bathroom door creak slowly. He doesn’t look up, but he feels the tension in the air, almost tangibly emanating from Yuuri, and feels the bed dipping next to him.

  
He reaches out, wraps his arms around Yuuri’s waist. Drags him on top of him, doesn’t realize how awkward and uncomfortable it is until Yuuri’s weight is on his stomach—it’s all worth it for the soft squeak he gets from it, and he can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips.

  
“We need to talk.” He says, as Yuuri shifts his weight around, trying to find something comfortable. Viktor loosens his grips, let’s the other man roll to his side, and then turns himself so that they are face to face on the short of Viktor’s bed. Yuuri has a blush on his face, his eyes are blown wide in an anxious look, and it pains Viktor in the most delicious of ways to see how beautifully innocent and transparent his Yuuri is.

  
He notices his head is still throbbing, but there’s a warmth in his chest he cannot help.

  
“About what happened in the banquet,” Yuuri looks down, but his voice is firm. Viktor lifts his hand to Yuuri’s face, as he decides to stop censoring his wanting to touch from Yuuri—aren’t they engaged now? “What did we do? After we danced.”

  
Viktor frowns, has no idea where Yuuri is going with that line of questioning. Are they actually engaged?

  
He doesn’t know anymore, doesn’t feel like he can hold Yuuri accountable for everything he does, because his impulsiveness doesn’t correlate with his judgement, it seems. Now that the thoughts become fully articulate, he knows why his head is throbbing. So the ring really was a charm for luck, nothing else—certainly not an engagement ring. The warmth in his chest turns cold and stings. The throbbing in his head makes his voice break when he speaks.

  
“I took you back. To your hotel room and dropped you off with Celestino, who took care of you.”

  
“We didn’t do anything?” Yuuri looks up at him, and seems momentarily lost. His gaze soon drifts down to Viktor’s chest again, and Viktor notes how Yuuri’s blush is gone now. He looks pale instead.

  
“No,” Viktor says, firmly. Of course not. He’s offended Yuuri would even think that he’d be the type to take advantage of someone who’s intoxicated out of their brain, and the idea makes him both angry and guilty. What did he do to make Yuuri think that he would be the type to do that to him, like he only wanted him for sex? Does he really come across that way? His hand falls from Yuuri’s face, and at that, Yuuri’s gaze snaps up to meet his again.

  
“I—“ Yuuri’s eyes are glassy, and he looks upset. The iciness in Viktor’s chest disperses. What is going on? “I’m so sorry.”

  
“What for?”

  
“I basically forced that ring onto you, you didn’t have to accept it,” Yuuri’s words spill from his beautiful, sad lips like a dainty string of nonsense. Against his will, Viktor finds a tiny smile appearing in his lips as a response, because, thank goodness, Yuuri isn’t mad about having thought that Viktor took advantage of him. Relief lifts his heart. “God, and I forced myself on you in the banquet. Why are you smiling? It’s not funny. I forced you to dance with me and do ridiculous things. You probably were so uncomfortable. God. I’m so sorry.”

  
Viktor gathers Yuuri’s face in his palms, and then Yuuri’s tears spill in the same way his words did—mindlessly, in a significant quantity, and for no good reason. He softens them with his thumbs, and smiles at Yuuri, who looks so lost that Viktor can’t help but lean in and press his lips against the other’s. They are both overwhelmed, but they are both okay. Yuuri just doesn’t realize it. So Viktor presses his lips chastely to Yuuri’s again, and then to the tip of his cold little nose, his forehead. There’s so much warmth within him now, he wishes he could more easily transfer it to Yuuri—Yuuri, his fiancé.

  
“Oh, Yuuri,” he kisses him again and now he’s just happy that he’s engaged to this honest, beautiful, if sometimes insecure and confused mess of a man. He loves the way his slightly deeper kiss elicits a little moan from Yuuri, and finds it ridiculous that this gorgeous ball of anxiety has made him undergo the most dramatic mood swings in ten minutes that he’s had since he was Yurio’s age. “In the banquet, you were—You changed everything for me, for the better. You inspired me. And we just got engaged. How did I ever get so lucky to have you?”

  
Yuuri’s eyes widen, but everything about him is softer now. The air has cleared. The bed seems too big instead of small now, and Viktor scoots closer to Yuuri, whose blush returns as he melts into Viktor’s palms. It’s true, Viktor means all of it. He doesn’t want to explain anything just yet, the way that he had been chronically depressed before Yuuri, constantly dwelling in hopelessness and stagnation, unable to see anything past the next competition, dreading retirement to the point of considering… Well, not living life in a world where he couldn’t skate, and everything meant nothing. He hopes Yuuri can accept and trust his words for now. He doesn’t want the other to run away, doesn’t want to reveal all his flaws and dirty baggage just yet.

  
Not tonight at least. He really just wants to make love to Yuuri tonight.

  
Yuuri also moves closer, and then there’s his fiancé’s hand resting upon his own face, and Yuuri is giving him a look he can’t take apart and explain. He doesn’t feel a need to.

Yuuri leans in to kiss Viktor this time, and Viktor opens his mouth to draw him in deeper. It works, and then Yuuri is rolling him onto his back, and he’s getting on top of him, straddling his hips, softly biting into Viktor’s lower lip, and Viktor is moaning and grabbing at the other’s thighs, bringing him down on his crotch and swelling erection.

  
“Oh,” Yuuri gasps into his mouth, and rocks his hips to grind against Viktor.

  
They’ve done this before, which doesn’t make it less exhilarating, but it does mean that he knows Yuuri is now versed and comfortable with this kind of foreplay. They’ve gone so far as to having Yuuri half sitting, half lying on a couch, with Viktor kneeling between his legs and pumping his length into his mouth until the other came undone into his throat. The thought drives him a little crazy, but he wants that for another time, because tonight, he wants more. He wants to make love in the full sense of it, something they haven’t done before.

  
“Yuuri,” he says into Yuuri’s mouth, and then leans back to be able to look at his fiancé. He’s about to ask for more than what he feels he has the right to ask for even at this point, but Yuuri, as always, doesn’t adhere to his expectations.

  
“Viktor,” he basically moans, and then rolls his hips onto his again. “Please.”

  
The next second, Viktor has them rolled over, switching them so that Yuuri is on his back, looking up with the most wanton eyes he’s ever seen on him, and Viktor pulls his own shirt over his head and tosses it aside. Yuuri is doing the same, so Viktor helps him with it. If he didn’t know any better, he would suspect they were dysfunctional, going from miscommunications and misunderstandings to Yuuri writhing underneath him with those flushed, hard nipples and heaving chest. It’s obscene. And Viktor can’t complain, because he knows that they have gotten better at meeting each other halfway. There’s nothing between them that he doesn’t understand for now.

  
“Tell me to stop if you are uncomfortable with anything I do, my love,” the last couple of words slip from his lips without him fully realizing, but he smiles at how appropriate they feel now. Not nearly enough, but they’ll do. Yuuri just nods quickly and writhes a bit more.

  
So he takes his mouth to the other’s neck, kissing full declarations into his skins, letting the sound of his lips against Yuuri’s flesh fill the tight space between them. Yuuri’s fingers are grasping his hair, carefully but firmly keeping him in where he wants him, so Viktor gives, and gives, and gives, dragging his tongue along the side of Yuuri’s neck to his earlobe, biting it, pulling, then sucking on the shell of his ears, breathing into him. There’s beautiful moans filling the air now, and interlaced his breathy, nonsense gasps are lovely vocalizations of his name. He never thought he would fall in love with the way someone says his name, but he does, hard.

  
“Ah—Viktor,” Yuuri’s hips bucks against him, and he feels the length of Yuuri’s erection straining against the fabric of his pants, begging for attention. “You are teasing.” Viktor lets out a soft laugh against Yuuri’s ear—notes how it makes him shiver—and concedes.

  
His hands work against Yuuri’s pants to get them off, and the other helps, a bit clumsy and inefficient, but they get everything, everything off. Yuuri’s erection is straining against his stomach, leaking with a small, tempting droplet of precum, and Viktor finds himself mindlessly moving in and kissing it clean. He licks his lips, savors the way Yuuri groans. He opens his mouth and takes in the tip, closing his lips tightly around the hot member, and goes down quickly until he feels his chin against Yuuri’s balls and tastes him in the back of his throat.

  
That draws a strangled cry from his fiancé, who’s far too gone to know anything about modesty anymore.

  
It’s the perfect opportunity for Viktor to drag his mouth back up, letting Yuuri out with a soft pop of his wet lips, and then takes his own index and middle fingers into his mouth. Yuuri’s eyes widen with recognition, and he goes suddenly tense and still. Viktor doesn’t say anything.

  
Instead, he takes Yuuri’s erection into his mouth again, takes him about halfway in, and then prods at Yuuri’s entrance with his index finger, using his other hand to steady Yuuri’s hip, which has begun to slightly shake. Viktor’s eyes are trained on Yuuri’s face, which is so open and responsive, and there’s so much want in his eyes, that Viktor’s finger pushes in against the virgin tightness and heat, burying itself in Yuuri.

  
“Oh my god,” the other gasps, and Viktor has to tighten his grip on his hips, because Yuuri bucks them in response, in turn also pushing himself further into Viktor’s mouth. “Viktor. Please. Please.”

  
He’s a generous lover, likes to be one, so he gives when asked. He begins pumping Yuuri’s erection, sliding it tightly about his lips, while his other finger squeezes inside Yuuri, and once they are both inside of his fiancé, he curls them inward like a hook and starts slowly thrusting.

  
And then Yuuri almost screams. He’s panting so hard, like Viktor’s pressed into formerly unexplored territory, so he knows he’s found the spot. His fingers rub softly against it. Yuuri leans back onto the bed.

  
“Viktor, no, stop—“

  
He lets Yuuri out of his mouth, but his fingers stay in.

  
“I want you inside of me. Please. I’m ready. I want to come with you inside of me.”

  
He smiles devilishly at the beautiful, heaving, demanding mess that he has turned his fiancé into, and he makes his fingers spread out inside Yuuri, whose eyes widen and his back arches in response. He could do this for so long—for hours, days, and when they get married, he’ll never stop wanting this. He hopes with all his heart that Yuuri never gets bored of only having him.

  
“Anything you want,” Viktor says, getting on his knees so that he’s towering above Yuuri, but letting his fingers remain deeply inside the other. “But you have to promise me, you will tell me if it hurts or if you want me to stop.”

  
Yuuri looks hesitant for a second—Viktor finds that a little problematic, but pushes the thought aside for now—but he nods anyway. “I promise.”

  
It’s enough for him. Viktor scissors his fingers inside Yuuri, occasionally rubbing against the little soft spot inside of him and eliciting a mix of pleasurable groans and bewildered expressions from Yuuri, who’s never had anyone work his ass into relaxation, sensitivity, and pure pleasure.

  
And then Viktor’s fingers slip out, and Yuuri is visibly disappointed, but he watches intently nevertheless. Viktor, whose eyes are fixed on his fiance’s, reaches the bedside drawing, being slightly inefficient at getting what he’s looking for but finding it regardless. He pulls out a small tube of lube, and squeezes a generous amount in his palm, proceeding to coat his fingers with it. And then the pads of his index and middle fingers are back against Yuuri’s ass, spreading his slightly more relaxed insides open, and Yuuri is throwing his head back in pleasure.

  
Then he’s out again, much quicker than how he went in. And unzipping his pants, getting out of them, before finally taking his own throbbing, neglected erection into his palm and coating it with lube. He groans—knows that he’ll come without spending too much time or effort on it. And for the first time, he also doesn’t feel pressed to perform and hold back. He wants all of Yuuri, wants Yuuri to see him acting on pure desire and love alone.

  
So he kneels towards Yuuri once more, kissing him softly, loving the way his fiancé’s lips, still slightly salty from the earlier crying, mix their own warm, breezy flavor with the heavy muskiness of Viktor’s mouth, which probably still tastes like precum. Yuuri appears to be on the same page, moaning into the kiss, and then licking at Viktor’s mouth, apparently loving the taste of himself on Viktor’s tongue. Fuck. His erection feels even more urgent now.

  
But before that…

  
“Remember your promise.”

  
Yuuri nods.

  
So he plants one last, open-mouthed kiss on Yuuri, and gets back up to line up himself, taking his dick towards Yuuri’s ass, spreading his cheeks with his hands, feeling the hotness of Yuuri’s entrance against his leaking tip.

  
And he presses in.

  
It’s slow, at first. It’s impossible and inconsiderate to try to go any quicker. He’s sliding in what seems millimeter by millimeter, and five seconds in, half of his throbbing length is not even inside Yuuri yet. But Yuuri is still crying out, writhing, panting, clawing at the sheets.

  
“Are you okay?” He breathes out, and it really sounds much more like a moan.

  
Yuuri just nods, but he’s biting his lip too tightly to say anything in response. So Viktor just goes for it, driving himself the rest of the way, until he’s fully inside of Yuuri, God, inside of Yuuri, and his Yuuri really screams this time, a pleasure-laden cry that echoes inside of Viktor’s head, half a sob and half a demand for more.

  
He doesn’t move, wants to give Yuuri time to adjust to Viktor’s full length and girth buried inside of him. And then Yuuri looks up at him, his face red, what appears to be a glint of drool on the corner of his lips.

  
“Vitya,” he pants. “You feel amazing.”

  
Viktor, whose dick twitches inside of Yuuri in response to that, and Yuuri feels it, moaning in response, leans back towards Yuuri to collect his hands in his own and pulling them up, bringing Yuuri’s arms above his head. He holds him in place, lacing their fingers together. Yuuri smiles lovingly up at him, and Viktor, who is so in love that he feels elated, weightless, and so, so ready to spend the rest of his life with the beautiful creature writhing underneath him, smiles back.

  
“Oh, Yuuri,” he moans, drawing out his length a little, pumping back in. Yuuri groans in return, closing his eyes. “I never want to go another night without making love to you.”  
This brings out Yuuri’s most beautiful blush, but before the other can reply in any other manner, Viktor’s begun sliding and out, thrusting into his fiancé in soft, measured, very, very controlled motions in his hips. Yuuri is moaning with him, surely making more noise than he’ll be pleased to remember in the morning, and it makes Viktor smile to himself.

  
When he feels Yuuri’s insides give a little more easily to his penetration, he allows himself to have less control, be less calculating. His thrusting is coming in almost unpredictably now—first hard, deep, wanting, and other times short, fast, lacking any control, as do Yuuri’s moans, which become irregular, gasped out between loud panting, embodied through how his fingers tighten on Viktor’s, impossibly always tighter, silently asking for more and more, and Viktor doesn’t have any intention to slow down.

  
It’s when he leans in towards Yuuri, thrusting in particularly slowly, trying to get in deeper with every time he penetrates his lover, that he knows he’s hit the spot as Yuuri cries out, arches his back in an impossible manner until he’s flush against Viktor, and then there’s a hot wetness between the already sweaty skin of their stomachs. Viktor brings Yuuri’s lips into his own, thrusts in once, twice, hard, and comes while he’s deeply inside of his fiancé.

  
He’s panting onto the warm space between Yuuri’s neck and his chin, letting the seconds pass them by, not sliding outside of Yuuri even if he shivers from how overly sensitive he is now—he doesn’t really want to end this.

  
“Viktor,” Yuuri breathes. “Please, please marry me.”

  
Viktor, at first confused, is able to regain enough of his breath to laugh softly. “There’s nothing that I want more in the world, Yuuri.”

 

\- The Morning After -

 

Viktor wakes up to the tickling sensation of hair against his chin. It’s Yuuri’s—who is snoring softly, with his nose against Viktor’s chest, and seemingly soundly asleep. He’s a bit impatient and can’t wait for the other to wake up, but stays still nonetheless, taking a moment to survey Yuuri’s dark hair, the bit of exposed shoulder peeking from under the covers. He feels Yuuri’s thighs against his own, his feet right by his. They are both naked, he remembers now, and then remembers why, and he feels his head heat up slightly in elation.

  
“Yuuri,” he says softly into the others hair, and then kisses it.

  
He gets a half groan, half whine in response, but no movement.

  
“Yuuri.”

  
Then finally, Yuuri shakes off a bit of his sleeping state, shifting about until he is able to look up at Viktor. He greets his fiancé with a smile, and Yuuri half returns it, while also looking half asleep.

  
“Unlike the banquet, you do remember you asked me to marry you last night, right?”

  
Yuuri blushes. His eyes widen. Viktor drinks it all in, and it widens his smile.

  
“Ah—Yeah. Well. Are you?”

  
Now it’s Viktor’s turn to be surprised, and he laughs, tightening his arm which had been until then resting languidly on Yuuri’s waist. The other nuzzles against his neck but then looks up again, expectant.

  
“Yes.” He says, and leans down for a kiss.

  
“Oh,” Yuuri turns his face away. “Viktor. You haven’t known me for very long.”

  
He feels his brows lift, as he stares down at Yuuri, surprised, slightly disappointed that even after last night, the facts are not clear to his fiancé. Viktor needs Yuuri more. Way more. He needs him if he’s ever going to feel any desire to get up from bed again, now that he’s basically retired and Yakov can’t spell out his purpose for him every morning at the rink.

  
“Well, is there anything that you think I need to know, that you haven’t told me yet?” He probes, and waits. Yuuri looks like he takes the question very seriously.

  
“I was going to a therapist for anxiety while I was in Detroit,” he blurts out, first measuredly but then too quickly, and Viktor can almost hear the effort in his voice, the fear. “Then I stopped when I came back to Hasetsu. She has been telling me to see a psychiatrist instead but I won’t. I don’t want to. And I have trouble getting up in the mornings.”

  
“Which one is supposed to be more surprising—the part about anxiety or you not getting up in the mornings?” His eyebrow is still cocked at Yuuri, genuinely curious. Of course he knows, at least has had a strong suspicion about Yuuri’s anxiety, and if anything he’s only glad that Yuuri is open to the idea of speaking to a professional about it. Why, does Yuuri think he doesn’t know him at least that well at this point?

  
“Viktor,” Yuuri hisses, but not in hostility—he seems genuinely annoyed. Like they are miscommunicating. He sighs. “I’m serious. I don’t deserve you. I can barely care for myself. How could I ever be… Enough? For you? You are—You deserve someone who can give you everything you deserve.”

  
“Yuuri,” he brings up his hand to caress Yuuri’s cheek, but the other tries to shake him off. He insists anyway, lying his hand firmly on Yuuri’s face, willing him to listen and stay grounded. The other is still half-asleep, and that might be the source of his sudden spill, but Viktor takes it earnestly, just like Yuuri sounds like he’s voicing things he’s been trying to suppress. “I’m not perfect. You forget that sometimes.” Yuuri’s eyes soften at that. He looks a bit guilty. “I need you. You aren’t the only one getting something out of this relationship. We never defined the terms in which we were together because I was afraid of you thinking that I wanted more than what you could give me. But these rings mean everything to me now, Yuuri.” His eye catches the glint of gold in its corner, as Yuuri brings up his own hand to Viktor’s, which is still resting on his cheek. “So my answer is yes. Can I ask you now? Will you marry me, Yuuri?”

  
Yuuri is smiling now, a tiny thing that tugs at his blush, and he considers before nodding quietly.

  
“Okay,” he snorts, in what appears to be disbelief. But then he seems to breathe that out, and says, more firmly and surely, “Okay. Yes—I do want to marry you, Viktor.”


End file.
